One Of Those Fights
by lyradaemon
Summary: Remember how Daemon and Lucivar would tear Courts apart because they were bored? Well, here's one of those times! R&R will write more if I get enough reviews!
1. Chapter 1

**One Of Those Fights…** _by lyradaemon_

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it… (such a shame)**

_**A/N: I was flicking through Daughter of the Blood the other day and I read the bit when Lucivar briefly recalls how he and Daemon would frequently tear down courts during one of their little 'fights'. And I thought it was a shame that no one (or no one I'd read – sorry, if you have written one!) has written a fanfic about it. So I thought I'd give it a go. Please let me know what you think – if you like it, I may write others! SO REVIEW (or e-mail – my address is on my profile page; hint hint!) x**_

"You alright there Daemon?" Lucivar asked his half-brother who stood with his back to him.

Daemon didn't turn around. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you just disappeared from that party for one thing," Lucivar began.

"Can you blame me?" Daemon asked with a hint of a smile in his deep voice.

Lucivar chuckled at that. "I suppose not. It's hardly thrilling in there. Besides, the ladies are starting to make demands of the males. I thought it'd be wiser to escape while I could." Bad move.

Lucivar could feel the stark chill suddenly emanating from his brother – for all that he was several feet away, and it wasn't particularly warm outside either.

"Making demands, you say?" He ventured calmly, but Lucivar wasn't fooled.

"Oh, just a few vague remarks really, nothing serious…"

Daemon spun round with his customary feline grace. His face was its familiar bored mask, but the cold rage which was slowly building had frozen a terrifying smile on it too. Only an idiot would look at that face and not want to run as far from it as possible. Lucivar swallowed hard; he'd have to be _very_ careful if he wanted to get out of this one.

"Prick, those ladies never make vague demands and you know it." He began to glide slowly towards Lucivar, his eyes never leaving his face.

Thinking quickly, Lucivar put on his familiar lazy, arrogant smile and folded his arms across his chest. "They're just desperate, Daemon. It's quite amusing really."

Daemon stopped inches away from him. He had an odd look in his eyes – a lust and hunger which were not driven wholly by the loins. He raised his slender fingers to brush away a stray strand of hair from his brother's face; a gesture which sent a shiver down Lucivar's spine. Mother Night, he could seduce anything!

"Do you want to know what's really amusing, Lucivar?" He breathed, their lips practically touching. Lucivar could almost taste him, that dark, hot, sensual scent. He didn't answer.

Daemon carried on. "What's amusing, is that they can use males for their pleasure without being punished for it. They can make a man, a Warlord, submit to their every whim," his hand slid up Lucivar's shoulder, "and they can force anyone to pleasure them, any time they want," it trailed up his neck, sending sparks flying through Lucivar's body, "and they can do all of it…" here Daemon stopped. He lent forward the last few millimetres of space and touched his lips to Lucivar's. "Without being made to pay a _damn thing_," he whispered against his lips.

Lucivar stood stock still, willing his body not to respond to the Daemon's sensual touch. He prayed for him to move away, but even then – much to his disgust – he willed for him to stay close.

It was hardly surprising that Lucivar wanted to respond to physical contact of that kind. Neither of them had touched a single person they cared about in decades. They had to spend their days avoiding females, and fill their nights by pleasuring them in any way they wanted. And while Daemon had the excuse that he couldn't perform as they wished (even so, he still had to do the rest), Lucivar had no reason no to fulfil their desires.

So he had bedded just about every female of a suitable age (and several otherwise) in the Courts he'd been sent to. And not one of them had roused any emotion in him except hot, consuming rage. He hated them. Hated every last one of them. He hated them for using him like a whore, for making demands of him that no ordinary man could fulfil.

But then, he wasn't any ordinary man. He was Lucivar Yaslana, an Ebon-Gray-Jewelled Warlord Prince who was more powerful than anyone in the whole of Hayll, who could kill or maim anyone he wanted.

Except the man standing before him. Daemon Sadi surpassed everyone, including Lucivar. Being a Black-Jewelled Warlord Prince probably helped with that – his strength was such that no one could mentally or physically touch him, provided he had his shields up. But besides that, Daemon had a temper which was so volatile you only need look at him to set him off. Yet whereas Lucivar's temper was hot and easily quenchable – provided there were several people to hurt – Daemon's was as cold and icy as snow. He would descend to the Black in a cold, terrible rage, where no one could touch him at all. And he would only rise to kill.

Warlord Princes were the only Blood who could rise to the killing edge. Properly provoked, they could wield their power in such a way that morals went out the window and all that was left was a lust and hunger for blood and damage. This was second nature to the two brothers, who were both incredibly powerful Warlord Princes. If a female angered him enough, Lucivar would spend days riding the killing edge, the glorious, dark state where he cared about nothing except revenge.

Daemon was different. He would rise to it, but never enough that he would kill without thinking. Then he would remain there, in a frozen state where he could turn things to ice and make people run away when they felt the chill emanating from him. He would wait, almost like a cat waiting for a mouse, for a person foolish enough to annoy him and send him that last bit over the top and into full out killing mode.

Fortunately for the people in Daemon's Court, no one had make him do that for a long time now; he had gotten angry at several unsuspecting individuals, but they hadn't provoked him enough. They all thought that they were very lucky, having a beautiful Warlord Prince who wouldn't blow up at the slightest thing – unlike Lucivar, who was renowned for his temper.

But what they didn't realise was that Warlord Princes were very similar in nature to volcanoes; they might not blow up for a long time – maybe years – but when they did, when they were 'overdue', it would be infinitely worse. And Daemon was definitely 'overdue' on that front. He craved that delicious feel of all-consuming rage.

Lucivar had sensed that. He realised that his brother was very close to losing himself in the killing edge, and that he needed only the slightest nudge to do so. Being a human with a brain, he feared what the outcome would be. But being a Warlord Prince who shared all the difficulties which came with it, he sympathised wholly with him. He knew what it must feel like for Daemon – desperate to hurt _something_ but unable to because he was bound by that disgusting object, the Ring Of Obedience. It monitored every single burst of their Jewelled strength which came out of them, and punished if they used their Jewels. It was almost impossible – and unbearable – for either of them to rise willingly to the killing edge wearing that hated ring, knowing the pain that would be inflicted upon them afterwards.

Yet sometimes the urge was just too much, and they would ignore all adherences to common sense and just let go. Those were exquisite times, when they were in their natural state. Several times they had ridden it together, relishing the havoc they would wreck on the people who made their lives miserable every day. Yet those times were also few and far between – the punishment was just too immense to bear, despite the extent of their pain thresholds.

But Lucivar knew that the time had come now. Daemon desperately sought the release which eluded him and the desperation was becoming unbearable – not only for Daemon, but for everyone else. They thought that he was just being temperamental and moody (such an understatement), but Lucivar knew the real cause of the problem.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

Easing back from Daemon, he looked him dead in the eye. Daemon looked almost confused at his brother's withdrawal; "Lucivar, what-"

"Shh," Lucivar whispered, putting a finger to Daemon's warm lips to silence him. "I've had an idea." Daemon looked vaguely interested. Lucivar's ideas usually involved pain. "Those bitches in there are about to retire for the night with whichever male has taken their fancy." He felt Daemon tense at that. "So what I think we should do is punish them. Punish them for using us like we're worthless, like we're whores."

A small, ruthlessly delighted smile played on Daemon's lips. "Go on," he murmured huskily.

"Let's go back in there and just wreck havoc. Pull the place apart, tear it down. Make them see that we're not the worthless bastards they seem to think we are. Make them remember and fear the names Lucivar Yaslana and Daemon Sadi."

Daemon laughed, a cruel, blood-curdling sound. "Darling, there won't be anyone left to remember _my_ name when I'm done," he said with terrifying relish. "I will pull those bitches apart, slowly, so that they can feel what I've been made to feel. They won't remember my name, because I'm sending them to the Hell they belong to."  
Lucivar shivered at the thought; but he wasn't afraid. In fact, it was making him feel wildly alive. He yearned for that boundless state of rage where he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

Daemon put an icy hand to his brother's cheek. "So, are you ready Prick?" He whispered with the ghost of a smile, his now-yellow eyes burning with intensity. His lips touched Lucivar's for a brief moment, almost savouring the intimate contact.

"Whenever you are Bastard. Let's roll."

_**A/N: Well, I could finish there, or keep going; always the possibility for more chapters e.g. what they actually do and the aftermath. Still, it's your call, so unless you review and tell me what you think, you're not getting anything else! And yes, that is a threat!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Horse Piss

**One Of Those Fights, **_by lyradaemon_

**Part 2: Horse Piss**

**THIS IS NOT DIRECTLY CONNECTED TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER**

**I've decided to write my version of the 'horse piss' incident when Daemon and Lucivar destroyed a whole court while arguing over the wine. Hope you like it!**

"Here you go."

Daemon looked up at the glass being offered to him. Taking it cautiously he peered into it, then made a face. "Wine? I ask you to get me a _drink_ and you give me _wine_?" He frowned. "Are you sure there isn't something else stronger? Brandy? Whisky? _Anything_?"

Lucivar shook his head sadly. "Sorry. There's either that or some brown water they're convinced is beer. Tough luck." He threw himself into the chair beside his brother. "Well, drink up." He lifted his own glass.

Daemon stared at the contents of his glass then shuddered. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything a throaty female voice cut across.

"You're Daemon Sadi, aren't you?"

Daemon stiffened without turning around. "And you are?"

The owner of the voice walked into view. She was a moderately attractive young female with sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes. "I'm Lady Armelia. A friend of Thyla, the Queen here. It's such a _pleasure_ to finally meet the hero of such _wonderful_ stories." Her eyes held an evil gleam – one which didn't escape the notice of the two Warlord Princes sitting in front of her.

Daemon started to stand, anger seeping out of him, but Lucivar put a restraining hand on his arm. "Tell me, _Lady_," he said with his lazy drawl. "What would you call this?" He raised the glass to her.

Armelia looked slightly taken aback; all the same, she obediently looked at the contents. With a confused frown she said slowly, as if Lucivar was stupid, "It's wine."

"Really?" Lucivar said, feigning amazement. "See, that's what Prince Sadi thought." He heard a sharp intake of breathe from Daemon.

"And what did you think it was Prince…?"

"Yaslana." He noticed with amusement that her eyes widened; it seemed like Daemon's name wasn't the only one which terrified every female in Terreille. "I, for my part, thought it was horse piss."

A moment of silence followed this announcement. Daemon snorted; _:Nice one, Prick.:_

Armelia recovered herself. "I'm sure you'd be interested to know that my family produces this wine," she said stiffly.

"Hmm. Well, I've always heard that wine producers are very interested in knowing the public opinion of their wine. And there's mine. Horse piss." An odd noise came from Daemon.

"I-" began Armelia, turning red. "I will not have this – this _insult_! How dare you speak to me like that? Do you know who I am?"

"A stuck-up bitch?" Daemon offered, face perfectly straight; Lucivar, however, detected the dangerous note beneath it.

"You – you bastard! _You_ are a pleasure slave, a _whore_, selling your body! I suppose it's because you're a bastard; you can't _do_ anything but strip and whore-"

Her sentence was cut off by the hand clamped around her throat. "I would strongly advise you to keep your opinions to yourself, Lady Armelia," Daemon said too softly, face inches from hers. "That loose tongue of yours might get yourself killed one day…" He left it hanging.

Armelia tried to pull his hand away, but it only succeeded in making Daemon's sharp nails prick her skin. She felt a slight trickle down her neck.

"You bastard! You've made me bleed-"

"I'll make you do a lot more than just bleed, Lady," he purred. "I am a whore, after all." He leant in and kissed her, teasing, arousing, playing. Armelia was left breathless; she pressed her lips to his, desperately seeking more.

Daemon pulled away, laughing a cold, cruel laugh. "What?" Armelia gasped, eyes glazing with pleasure. Daemon let go of her throat and pushed her away with disgust and loathing in his eyes.

"Get out of my sight; you disgust me," he said.

"And take your horse piss with you too," Lucivar added.

Armelia looked at them, speechless, until Lucivar took a threatening step forward. She ran.

Lucivar turned towards Daemon, but was taken aback by the cold anger spilling out of him; the air around him had turned icy. Looking at him he noticed that his eyes had turned to hard yellow; his face was its familiar beautiful mask. "Careful, Daemon," he warned quietly. "Don't do something you'll regret."

That gaze turned to him. "Ah, now that the _beautiful_ thing about it," Daemon purred, gliding towards his brother. "I never regret anything."

_Mother Night_, Lucivar swallowed. _Daemon's rising to the killing edge._

Lucivar smiled lazily. "Come on, why don't we go and annoy some other females here; you never now, you might actually enjoy it."

Daemon smiled, a feral look in his eyes; it was the smile of a predator who had found his prey. "I don't think that's necessary," he said. "We have visitors."

Lucivar turned to see Thyla, the Queen of the Court, trailed by Armelia and another, smaller female. "Hell's Fire," he muttered under his breathe.

"Prince Sadi," Thyla said loudly, her voice having a slightly nasal quality.

"Lady?" Daemon's voice was level, but throbbed with barely subdued aggression.

"I have heard from Lady Armelia that you insulted her; not only that, you also insulted her family and made sexual advances on her." Armelia cowered under the look Daemon gave her.

"My apologies, Lady. I was just feeling so _aroused_ by Lady Armelia that I _had_ to whore for. It won't happen again." His voice was so soft. "But then again, it might not have happened if I received any pleasure from having to service you every night."

Thyla practically squeaked with rage, cheeks turning and unbecoming pink. She looked speechlessly from Daemon to Lucivar, then seemed to come to a decision. "You will pay for that, Sadi," she snarled.

Lucivar cried out with pain, clutching his groin and falling to his knees. "_Mother Night_…" he gasped, unable to speak due to the excruciating pain being sent through the Ring. Daemon fell down beside him, wrapping Lucivar in his arms, trying to blot out the hurt.

"Leave him alone, bitch," he snarled, glaring up at Thyla.

She just looked at them with a smug, triumphant smile on her face. "That'll teach you not to step out of line, Prince," she drawled happily.

Quick as a flash, Daemon leapt to his feet and sent out a bolt of Black power – directly at Armelia. She screamed then vanished.

Thyla stood rooted to the spot, staring wide-eyed at the place Armelia had been only seconds before. "You bastard…what did you do with her?"

"I thought she should meet someone. I believe his name is The High Lord. Ring any bells?"

"You – you killed her?"

"Looks like it."

"She was a member of my Court!" She spluttered. "You can't do that!"

"I just did."

Thyla quailed under Daemon's gaze before he strolled away, hands in his trouser pockets, humming softly to himself. She watched as he entered the building before letting out a sigh of relief.

"You should really be more careful next time," a voice said behind her. It was Lucivar.

She glared at him, before sending another sharp blast of power through the Ring. Lucivar almost screamed at the pain, falling to the ground again.

An echoing scream came from inside the building; a female scream. Of pain…

Thyla ran towards it.

Too late.

Flashes of Black power rippled through the air, filling it with screams and shouts. Through it all was an inescapable feel of cold, cold anger and rage. Daemon's anger. Through the fog of pain, Lucivar registered what was happening. Gritting his teeth he lurched to his feet and followed Thyla inside.

He was met by total chaos. Daemon was standing in the middle of the hall, blasts of Black strength bursting out of him, almost continuously. Then Lucivar looked at his face.

The blank mask was so cold, so unfeeling, Lucivar shivered, almost recoiling in horror. Then a deliciously familiar feeling rose up inside of him; an urge to kill, to hurt someone for causing them such pain. The urge which made him a Warlord Prince.

Laughing, Lucivar unleashed his considerable Ebon-Grey strength.

Daemon glanced at him momentarily before turn his thoughts back to what he was doing; but not before Lucivar saw the slight, sadistic smile on his lips.

The dark, delicious power blasted all around them, surrounded by cruel, gleeful laughter.

**A/N: It's not _quite_ finished – I might add a little bit about the aftermath of it all. It'll only be short though. I hope I kept Daemon and Lucivar in character – please let me know if they're not, and I'll try to tweak things a little bit. Lyradaemon x**


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